Of all Victor’s crimes, of the murders I now knew he had committed, that tiny bird haunted me the most. Perhaps because it was easier to think of a bird than of Justine, or of William. But probably because I had been complicit. I had made myself Victor’s that day. I had chosen to look directly at whatever he did, unflinching, unjudging. I continued that for the rest of our childhoods together. I never asked what happened to Ernest’s arm in the cottage. I just dealt with it and took care of Victor.

I never asked, and he never told me, and we both assumed we were protecting the other. Was it any wonder he thought I would continue as his forever, after bloodying my hands at the moment of our meeting?

That was, I thought, the moment I ceased being Elizabeth and became his Elizabeth. And now I could be neither.

“God in heaven,” the nurse said. “What have they done to you?”

I sat up in shock at being spoken to. I did know her face after all, but in the bleak haze of the asylum it took me a few moments to process it.

“Mary?” I asked, incredulous.

She sat, tugging off her white nurse’s hat and setting it on the bed next to me. “You have been a difficult girl to track down.”

“How long have you worked here?” My mind spun, still unable to process the appearance of someone from my old life, here, in my new hell.

“I do not work here, silly thing. I tried to get permission to speak with you, but they would not allow it. So I stole their laundry instead. It is hard to get out of this asylum, but decidedly easy to get in.”

I raised an eyebrow. “So easy, I did it while sleeping.”

“I preferred a method that would allow me to leave when I was finished.” She frowned, studying my face. I was suddenly conscious of how I must look. My hand darted to my hair to smooth it down, but she shook her head. “I am sorry,” she said, “for what has been done to you. I suspected that you were Victor’s accomplice, but now I think you are yet another of his victims.”

I leaned forward, grasping her arms. Too hard, I was sure, but I could not stop myself. “You know about Victor? About what he has done?”

“About his murders? Oh, yes. I have figured it all out.”

“Have you seen the monster?”

Mary frowned at me, and I instantly regretted my words. She would think me truly insane and stop talking to me!